


Colorado Stole My Boyfriend

by Alicethrutheburrows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ace spectrum Cas, Alternate Universe - High School, Becoming Best Friends, Bobby is number one ally, Cas is an army brat, Castiel and Dean Winchester Falling in Love, Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean is a small town Kansas boy, Demisexual Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced Partners on a Project, Good Parents Mary and John, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Misunderstandings, POV Dean Winchester, Really just a healthy sprinkle of angst though, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soft Boys, another high school au, but not in a bad way, summer fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicethrutheburrows/pseuds/Alicethrutheburrows
Summary: Junction City Kansas, 1999. Nothing crazy special or interesting happened that year to your average person, well besides melting down over the turn of the century, but for high school junior Dean, life was forever changed. Paired with one of the school’s new influx of army kids, Dean can’t help but find himself drawn to the forever scowling, head in a book, too big-blue eyed boy. Soon, Castiel Shurley is much a part of Dean as his own flesh skin; he’s his best friend. Between the late-night shenanigans, study sessions, and gravel travel with his best friend, Dean has life in the bag until summer rolls around, and new feelings come with it. And just when Dean thinks he has a lid on it all, the unexpected happens. Dean is left him with a hard choice. Will Dean follow his heart or let society dictate what’s considered normal?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 55
Collections: Asexual Supernatural Mini Bang 2020





	Colorado Stole My Boyfriend

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone!
> 
> Welcome to my submission for the Spn Ace Mini Bang! Featuring Ace Spectrum Cas and Demisexual Dean, who could also be read as Dean is Bi for Cas. This story holds a special place in my heart and is honestly a really fluffy read compared to my other works. The words here came to life because I felt the need to right a wrong I had committed. Let me elaborate: I wrote a companion drabble in Cas's POV for angstyangst week and I felt there was this whole other side to the story that never got told. Especially how Dean felt. So, here I am giving our boys the happy ending they deserve. This piece is a completely stand-alone story, so there is no need to read Cas's POV unless you would like in which I'll have a link to it below. 
> 
> Now to give credit where credit is due!
> 
> Thank you so much to the mods who sponsored this bang! [@acespnminibang](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/acespnminibang/630824897789214721)
> 
> This story would have never happened without my personal cheerleader and wonderful beta: [@emblue-sparks](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/emblue-sparks)
> 
> Also, I had another wonderful beta (who is also now my new friend, please read her works) for this project who really helped me fine-tune this piece and made it shine: [@lovemuppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovemuppet/pseuds/lovemuppet)
> 
> And finally, I want to thank my artist who made the great pieces of art in my fic: [@walkingdeadandsupernaturaladdict](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/walkingdeadandsupernaturaladdict)
> 
> Without further ado, welcome down my rabbit hole. Sweets and madness await.

### Colorado Stole My Boyfriend

Junction City, Kansas: a city in the middle of nowhere Kansas situated right outside a military base. Or the correct way to describe it in Dean’s opinion: a big ole fancy government base with a tiny town attached where everyone’s best friend was Bertha the cow. And the school system? Yeah, the school saw more army brats rotated in and out more than Dean changed his underwear on a weekly basis. But this year, on the cusp of everyone losing their damn minds from the turn of the century, the influx of military randos held a special surprise.

_Castiel Shurley._

The kid was like a guitar solo in a Led Zeppelin song, intense and heavy, while electric and exciting. A mysterious mop of raven hair with a bad boy, come-at-me attitude who showed no shame in walking around with his nose always buried in a cheesy teen romance novel. Castiel didn’t need words to express his feelings, not when they were so clearly written on his face with his _ **talk to me and I’ll stab you**_ eyebrow or his _**are you done**_ stare. Now all of this would deter your normal high school student from talking to the boy with a permanent scowl but somehow it made Dean want to unravel the enigma of Castiel all the more.

And Dean was about to be given the perfect chance to do so.

Call it luck or fate, but a higher power seemed to be looking out for Dean when he got assigned Castiel as his English project partner.

Thumbing the VHS sleeves of the John Wayne Ultimate Collection movies on Castiel’s bookshelf, Dean had to bite back a smile. He skimmed the rest of the titles and skimmed the next shelf too where a pile of DC comics were nicely organized by number and storyline. A love for old cowboy movies and superheroes, this kid was going to the top of Dean’s cool radar.

Peeking over his shoulder, Dean noticed the other boy was furrowing his brow at his open notebook while sprawled out on his bed.

“Careful there, stare at it any harder and you might catch it on fire,” Dean teased, but then almost swallowed his tongue when Castiel threw icy eye daggers at him.

“Well, pardon me for cringing at Mr. Adler’s choice in Shakespeare.” Castiel sneered before faceplanting down into his mattress. A muffled, “Romeo and Juliet is the worst,” came from the buried face.

“Dude, you’ve been angrily flipping through the textbook for thirty minutes.” Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, “What you need is a break—” gesturing towards the comics that needed to be shown some love, “—tell me, who’s your favorite?”

The mop of raven hair popped up, studying Dean intently before breaking out into a smirk, “Superman.”

Dean took it back, bottom of the cool list for Castiel. “No, dude—” Dean said, fighting the incredulous look he knew was on his face, “—Batman. Batman all the way!”

“I should have known Dean Winchester would be a Batman fan; too bad. I thought we could be friends,” Castiel said with a completely expressionless face which left Dean gaping at him. As Dean fumbled for words, Castiel broke out into a wicked smile. The little shit was jerking his chain! Professor Super Scowl had a sense of humor, who knew?

“Oh,” Dean laughed, “Oh, you got me! What do you say we settle this like men, huh!?” Dean grabbed a handful of comics before striding over to the bed, picking up the textbook and depositing it on the floor. Castiel sat up, making room for Dean and they spent the rest of the study session proving who through various volumes was the better superhero.

Over the course of the week, Dean spent every night at Castiel’s working on their joint line memorization, thankful they were assigned minor character parts and even more thankful for the time that allowed Dean to get to really know Castiel. And getting to know him was like opening Pandora’s Box, Castiel was everything, yet nothing Dean was expecting—an utter paradox. Cas—a nickname Dean bestowed on him after their first study sleepover—teetered the line between shy and snarky, was completely oblivious to sarcasm despite his quick-witted dry humor; his scowl was worse than his bite. Dean often joked that the kid just suffered from perpetual resting bitch face which always earned him said stellar bitch face accompanied by an over-dramatic eye roll.

In the midst of their blooming friendship, the dorky little guy somehow managed to bulldoze all of Dean’s _**I’m a cool kid**_ walls he had spent his life building to find amongst the rubble the 80’s slasher movie junkie, comic book lore loving, pop culture fanatic, Scooby-Doo marathoning Dean. For helping Dean find his way back to himself, Dean made it his personal mission to set Cas’ wrongs against humanity right, starting with weekly movie nights at Charlie’s house. Come on, the kid had never seen Star Wars! And that was just downright heartbreaking.

This endeavor became more fun than Dean imagined. Dude food orgasmed over his first Roadhouse burger kicked everyone and their mothers’ asses at Mario-kart, and after a little instruction could give Slash a run for his money slaying some air-guitar.

But the real crime Dean wanted to fix the most also solidly cemented the foundation of their friendship. The thing they did when nothing else sounded good, when everything was great or falling apart, or when one or the other _really_ just needed to talk—late night country cruising in Dean’s Baby, his ’67 Impala. There was something about gravel traveling past midnight in the middle of nowhere with no real destination that made anything and everything feel possible; it made the world feel so big and yet so small like they were only two small flecks of humanity in the wide expanse of the universe. Dean didn’t have the pretty words to describe it just right but something about being under the covering of the night’s stars completely carefree made the space inside Baby feel safe; a sacred safe place where they could share their hopes, dreams, fears, and secrets they’d never tell another soul without judgment or guilt. Something about the way Cas sat in his passenger seat, smiling absentmindedly while watching the road fall behind them made Dean feel like he could be vulnerable; he could be whoever the hell he wanted to be. All those somethings really just added up to a singular thing, with Cas mouthing along to lyrics on radio and rocks crunching beneath Baby’s tires and endless shiny speckles sparkling off her hood, Baby wasn’t just a car, no, she was their sanctuary or in Dean’s head he liked to call it their ‘freedom on four-wheels’.

Days during his Junior year were filled with cheer practice, performing at the various sporting events, studying for those damn ACT/SATs under Cas’ harsh tutoring _‘Dean these scores are more than important, you are smart enough to get into a good college’_ , group outings with the gang, and trying not to fall asleep in his classes. Dean lived for their late-night shenanigans. Because nights, nights meant freedom; freedom from the pressures at school, home, and work. When the sun sunk down into the horizon Dean picked up Cas to unwind. Some nights they cruised. Other nights they just parked and basked in soft notes spilling from the radio while they hummed along. Then there were nights the conversation flowed so well it felt like neither one took a breath in between each sentence. But no matter how they had passed the night, Dean would return Cas before anyone noticed the boys were missing like a modern-day version of Cinderella, except Cas always kept his shoes.

Those school days and nights soon rolled into summer days and nights.

The first day of summer set the tone for the whole season and Dean blamed it on his faulty air conditioner. The window unit barely blew enough cool air to be considered an air conditioner But it beat sweating to death in the humid Kansas heat. Plus, after finishing a grueling year of high school nothing sounded better than a day of freedom indoors—playing (and effectively losing) Mario-kart, delving into the new comic Batman series, and dancing around his room voice overlayed by Robert Plant’s—with his best friend.

Their t-shirts clung a little to their bodies from sweat but neither cared as Dean cranked the music as the guitar riff from Kashmir filled his bedroom. They had no care in the world but outdoing one another’s air guitar, dancing, and twirling. They jumped around like they themselves were international rock stars. Who needed an audience when they had each other to hype up and compete with?

Dean flung himself on the edge of his bed swinging his right leg up and strumming it like a sick electric six-string while Cas threw out some of his less awful dance moves. He threw Cas a _**Think-You-Can-Do-Better-Buddy**_ eyebrow arch as he continued strumming his leg guitar. Cas answered with a _**Bet-Your-Ass-I-Can**_ smirk, then between blinks of an eye Cas had tackled Dean back into the mattress, well-tried to but they ended up more or less falling to the floor in a heap of laughs and limbs. As Cas landed on top of him with one his stupidly rare gorgeous toothy smiles, something small shifted in Dean’s chest.

Dean pushed his friend off of him with a huff followed by laughter. Chuckles filled the few inches between them as they both tried to catch their breaths. The small something that shifted in Dean’s chest shifted a bit more while staring at Cas’ ocean eyes glistening with unshed laugh tears, chest heaving for air, and hair curling into small ringlets from the dampness on his forehead. The moment broke when Cas stood up outstretching his hand to help Dean up as well suggesting they find some snacks downstairs. Only Cas could ruin the cusp of something by thinking with his stomach.

The saying about the weather in Kansas—if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes and it will change—always seemed to ring true. Temperatures dropped drastically that night despite the unforgiving sun earlier in the day. Dean inched closer to the middle of the bed. He slept on the very edge of his pillow staring at Cas, who slept 99% of the time on his side with his face buried deep into one of Dean’s pillows, knowingly intruding on the no man’s gap (the gap which was considered acceptable to leave between two dudes sharing a single bed). Dean peered at his friend’s back counting his even breaths like Dean was counting sheep in multiples of 4 until somewhere between 78 and 84 his eyes fell heavy and sleep finally claimed him.

After the first day of summer, it was like someone had thrown a stone through Dean’s glasshouse. Dean seemed to notice _everything_ when it came to his best friend. It started with the smallest things: how Cas drooled on his pillow every time he stayed the night, how Cas swayed his hips while he brushed his teeth, the perfect curl resting on the back of his neck, and the way Cas’ brow furrows adorably when he starts a new book and doesn’t agree with the characters actions.

Weekends at the lake had Dean noticing much more than the small things.

Cas had been blessed with good genetics. Honestly, that had to be it—good fucking genetics. Dean literally had watched the dude eat double cheeseburgers at the Roadhouse like the kid had a hollow leg, yet there he stood at the end of the dock ripping his shirt off to reveal a hardened six-pack like some perfume commercial model. But a six-pack wasn’t enough. No, Cas was also blessed with a lithe runner’s body—thick thighs, defined calf muscles, bulging biceps—straight out of the Track and Field monthly.

Dean tended to fish while Cas and Sam swam in the lake, only joining them after not catching anything for the first few hours. Cas didn’t understand the meditative aspects of it even after Dean tried to explain it and fishing to him, but he banned Cas from touching a fishing pole after managing to sink a hook into the soft flesh on Dean’s triceps while Dean tried to teach him proper pole casting.

Then there was the summer sun. While the sun freckled Dean’s body, it seemed to kiss Cas’. Dean only noticed because he’d kill for an awesome tan rather the bridge of his nose bursting with new freckles like a freckle bomb exploded on his face every time a tiny ray of sunshine hit his skin. Jealous. Yeah, if Dean had to put a name to the feeling of seeing Cas’ beautiful, tan body dripping with water in the summer sun, it’d be jealous.

The best part of their weekend lake excursions was they always ended their lake days eating s’mores over an open fire letting the sun dry the water from their skin. Cas and Sammy usually chatted about this or that while Dean put himself in charge of melting the marshmallow since he always toasted them the perfect golden brown. The conversations melted into one another, as well as the gooey marshmallows, did. When the stars shone overhead, they’d pack up Baby and head home warm, fishy-smelling, and exhausted. Usually, after a round of showers, Dean wiggled a smudge closer in the ever disappearing gap between them on the bed indulging himself in the smell of his soap and shampoo wafting off of a freshly showered Cas.

The darkness of Dean’s bedroom provided the perfect backdrop for their hushed conversations that were once only reserved for their late-night cruises. Murmuring back and forth about aliens to the upcoming senior year, they talked until soft snores replaced whispered words.

Weekdays were spent picking up shifts over at his Uncle Bobby’s Salvage Shop.

  
  


Dean began picking up even more shifts once Cas landed a part-time position at the Gas N’ Sip. Being up under the hood of a car felt like a second home to Dean. The grease, dirty hands, and surprise strange noises were all old friends. The daily lunch delivered by his best friend was new but not unwelcome. He didn’t have the heart to tell Cas by the fourth day he was utterly over PB & J sandwiches. The kid looked so damn excited to drop them off. so he ate them, swearing to teach Cas how to cook. Or at least teach him a different sandwich recipe for the sake of his taste buds’ sanity.

In fact, to make good on his promise to himself, the following weekend Dean hauled Cas into the kitchen for an impromptu cooking lesson instead of visiting the lake. A lesson which ended in two loaves of bread, at least a carton of eggs, and three packages of varying sliced lunch meat being destroyed. Thank God, Sammy offered to help eat some of their wilder creations, and following their food infused weekend, Dean never had to eat the same sandwich twice at lunch for the rest of summer.

Money made was money spent with Dean managing to sweet talk his secret supplier, Ash down at the Roadhouse, into buying cheap beer for him and Cas. Dean watched Cas’ Adam apple bob from sipping the cool beverage. Sweat rolled down his neck and Dean became mesmerized even when Cas would scrunch his nose in distaste afterward. Dude looked as if he stuck a whole lemon in his mouth. The twisted, sour-scrunched face always made Dean laugh to the point of tears. Dean took great joy in creating opportunities to make Cas look like the adorable dork he was.

On the occasional days off they haunted the local movie theater, drowning themselves in buttered popcorn and bad movie-effect explosions. Could a man ever have enough action-packed, badass-hero-ultimately-saves-the-day movies? Seemed Cas never saw the appeal given his less than stellar enthusiasm in comparison to Dean’s own, but Cas never complained. Dean surmised Cas simply went along with Dean because it appeared his buddy rather enjoyed Dean’s recap demonstration of the best fight sequences based on the question and prompting that always followed their movie viewings.

Somewhere between summer nights their shoulder touches grew bolder, stares lingered only until they were covered up by a cough, and Dean took every chance to brush his hand up against Cas’. Between those moments that small shift in Dean’s chest from weeks ago had become a constant low simmer whenever Cas was in his presence. Dean ignored it, mostly writing off the simmer as admiration because who wouldn’t admire someone like his best friend? Someone who was witty, sharp, a tad bit different, but downright cute in the best ways. But whenever Cas flashed Dean his gummy smile or deadpanned a retort, the warm thrumming in his veins wouldn’t dissipate.

The end of summer was marked by Lisa’s “Summer Bash”. Taking one look inside the house at all the horny and drunk teenagers, anyone could see it was more a “Downright Disaster”. Dean managed to maneuver Cas through the throngs of teenagers to the living room. Cas offered to find them some beers if Dean would find their other friends or call next for the beer pong table. For a kid who never played sports Cas had an innate talent for sinking ping pong balls into red solo cups.

  
  


Lisa, hands down the hottest girl in their senior class, found Dean before Cas did. She looked amazing in a fluttery summer dress showing off all of her curves and she was eyeing Dean like he was the steak being served on a buffet. Now this type of heat, Dean understood. He flashed her his infamous Winchester smile while she slid her arms up around his neck swaying her hips to the music thumping in the background.

There is always a moment before a kiss; a hopeful look, a playful smile, or some dreamy bedroom eyes batting their lashes that screams _kiss me, kiss me like you mean it_. Lisa gave Dean a _**What Are You Waiting For**_ smirk and Dean bent down pressing his lips to hers. Kissing the hottest girl in school was…was…weird and aggressive and not like anything Dean expected. And did she just full-on lick him like he was lollipop? Sure, he had kissed his fair share of girls before, but kissing Lisa felt different. Maybe he was out of practice since he spent the whole summer with Cas. Speaking of Cas, did the kid die trying to find them some beers? Dean could really, really use a beer right now.

Dean opened his eyes while Lisa pulled back to catch her breath. He scanned the room catching his favorite dark colored mop of hair sipping between two beers with the most sourpuss look on his face like the time he shoved a whole bag of sour patch kids in his mouth on a dare. Chuckling inside his head at his best friend, Dean turned his attention back to the beautiful girl in his arms because when would he have another shot at the hottest girl in school. She smiled waiting for more but before Dean dipped back in, he shot another glance to make sure Cas was okay or at least socializing. In Cas’ place, he spotted two half-empty beer bottles and no Cas. Assuming Cas had just wandered to some other part of the house, Dean kissed Lisa again. Yet in the back of his mind, something nagged at him.

Why did Cas look so damn upset? Why did he wander off and not closer? Dean knows Cas saw him kissing Lisa, but he’s seen Dean kiss a few girls over Junior year and never such a reaction graced his best friend’s face. Oh. _OH._ Cas probably liked Lisa. Of all the conversations and secrets, they shared for some reason they never talked about girls or their crushes. Shit. Dean felt like someone dumped a whole bucket of cold water on him during a hot shower. Dean broke the kiss pulling out Lisa’s death grip with a muttered apology to find Cas to apologize for being the _shittiest_ best friend in history. Only after asking his tenth class did Charlie graciously inform him that Cas had hitched a ride and left. _Fuck._

If there was one thing Dean Winchester sucked at it was fucking apologies. Dean couldn’t find the right words, or the right time before school started to be like: _Sorry about kissing the girl you like—Look Cas I didn’t know you liked her, Dude I’m Sorry—I’m sorry for being the world’s worst best friend ever, please fucking forgive me._

Every time he thought he had a chance it would slip away whether the school bell rang or one of their friends came up to talk to them or Cas just magically disappeared.

Fuck, the whole situation was eating Dean from the inside out. A stupid, bad kiss was not worth throwing away the best friendship he had ever made. He needed to get Cas alone and have a come to Jesus meeting. But how? The answer hit Dean like a freight train almost mockingly staring him in the face the whole time—a late-night gravel travel.

Baby rumbled outside of Cas’ house five minutes until midnight, late enough no one would be stirring but plenty early to catch some Kansas stars. Cas slid into the passenger seat sinking into Baby’s leather like the space had been designed for him. Dean drove the familiar back roads choosing light topics of conversation while watching for his turn. Just off the country road on a path hidden to the untrained eye and nestled between a clearing in the trees, Dean parked Baby. The area, their hidden star gazing spot they had discovered on one of their many late-night adventures.

Shutting off the engine, Dean climbed out of Baby and walked around the front to climb on her hood with Cas following suit. The warm metal felt great against his back given the crisp night air. The conversation about the first-day school snowballed into talking about their futures. It always happened, they’d start with one topic and end up on another without even thinking. Dean volleyed back and forth about wanting to go to college and possibly open his own garage.  
Cas always listened so intently with intrigue and interest to Dean’s babbling.

When Dean turned his attention from the twinkling lights in the clear sky to his favorite twinkling blue pools, he felt the air punched out of his lungs. Bathed in soft moonlight Cas’ facial features seemed to glow radiating the moon’s ray as if he was an ethereal being. Damn, his best friend was stunning. Dean inhaled deeply, praying Cas didn’t notice the lull in the conversation. Dean snapped back to himself when Cas began answering the question he hadn't noticed he had asked.

“I’ve moved from place to place because my dad is in the army. I want to plant my roots somewhere, I want to look at the same four walls and windows every day, ” Cas never sounded small, never sounded so unsure of himself, and any apology Dean had swimming in his mind fled like a spooked fish.

“You’re allowed to have bigger dreams than four walls and four windows Cas,” Dean commented, waiting for Cas to train his baby blues on him. If anyone deserved a bright future it was fucking Castiel Shurley. Dean arched an eyebrow while raking his eyes over Cas’ stoic face seeing through the other boy’s façade with ease. Underneath the pursed lips and blank stare, Dean found uncertainty.

Dean tore his eyes from Cas’s training them on stars instead. “You’re smart man, crazy smart. You and Sammy both too smart for your own good,” Dean confessed, willing Cas to understand that he deserved the world if only he was willing to fight it. They say the universe holds the keys to all the world’s problems but only if you are willing to look; Dean discovered some truth in the saying. Staring at the clear Kansas sky, a thought stuck Dean—perhaps he needed to give Cas a future worth fighting for, a really cool future with a badass job and a badass look. The idea was crazy enough that it just might work.

“You know,” Dean started, casting his eyes back to his best friend waiting to see his iris before continuing, “You like the stars, what if you became an astrologist or a meteorologist.”

Excitement bubbled beneath Dean’s skin. He shifted closer, unable to contain sharing the image in his head. Blue suit to match his blue eyes, his gravelly voice perfect for TV, his face classically handsome while being warm and inviting. yeah, Cas would make the perfect fucking weatherman. Dean’s mouth ran with it, spilling every detail popping into his head.

Dean straight-up gushed the idea, laying out all the ground workings of a plan—college, interning, getting on a local news station, becoming the nation’s most beloved weatherman of all time, possible world domination while they’re at it. Dean went on and on while Cas listened, his best friend’s eyes glistening with bewilderment. But for a brief moment, Dean swore he saw Cas’s eyes widen in some inner realization just before they melted back into their usual soft fondness. Dean droned on until Cas shook his head turning his attention to the twinkling lights with a shadow of a smile on his lips. All tension in Cas’ posture vanished and his face reflected nothing but amusement. Dean counted it as a mission accomplished.

A half-finished sentence died on Dean’s tongue, a yawn replacing it instead. Sliding back into Baby, Dean felt light despite his growing fatigue. They were okay, back to their usual back and forth snarky retorts. If Dean sang a little quieter so he could listen to Cas’s sexy baritone sing some _Bon Jovi_ , he’d call you liar with a wink.

The following school days flowed more naturally—school, practice, homework, late-night cruising. Dean shoved the notion to apologize off a mental cliff, whatever was wrong was fine now so, no need to dig up buried graves.

Then Dean learned a cruel, cruel life lesson—what God gives, God can take away. The night following their fourth day of school, Castiel seemed different; he seemed distant as if his head was stuck on another planet. Parked at their favorite spot, Dean turned off the music adjusting his body to face Cas. He searched Cas’ face for the slightest clue about what had his best friend looking like someone just told him they ran over his dog.

Waiting for Cas to finally spill the beans, Dean filled the silence with random topics about the day knowing the longer he talks the sooner Castiel will break to shut Dean the hell up. Halfway through recounting how he swore the frog, he was dissecting in A&P squirted _something_ at him when he sliced into the slimy thing’s belly, Castiel shattered.

“But what Mr. MacLeod didn't realize was the Jo already had made the incision-"

"Dean-" Cas tried to cut in.

"So he goes in to make the cut, right? Everyone staring because they know what's gonna happen-"

"Dean-"

"And the intestines they just-"

"Dean!" Castiel burst like a crack in the Hoover Dam, voice dripping with surprise sadness rather than anger. He seemed to be trembling.

"Hey," Dean said nervously, placing a hesitant hand on Cas' kneecap. "What is it - what's wrong?"

Dean waited when Cas said nothing at first, just turning his head to look at Dean with shining blue eyes.

And then a truth.

One Dean wasn't expecting to blindside him in all but a moment.

“I’m moving.”

Two words. Two words strung together that hardly formed a sentence was all it took for Dean’s world to turn inside out. His breath caught, his mind blanked, and he wanted to scream _NO! You can’t leave me!_ But right now, it wasn’t about Dean. No, right now Dean needed to be there for his best friend whose big blue eyes were shining with fat, watery tears.

With his head spinning and the world crumbling, Dean let instinct take over. He pulled Cas to him crushing the other boy against his chest. All those plans for the future, hell plans for this senior year just gone. No longer would Dean be able to enjoy their late-night drives, their pillow conversations or see the back of that perpetually messy hair. Who the hell was going to listen to his random Led Zeppelin facts or be impressed by his growing collection of Vonnegut?

After a few awkward seconds of hugging one-sidedly on Dean’s end, Cas seemed to melt into Dean, finally wrapping his arms around Dean’s back and pressing his face into Dean’s shoulder. Dean rested his head against the top of Cas’ when he felt a small shudder run through his best friend and heard a definite sniffle escape the other boy. Cas managed to physically express Dean’s inner destruction.

Gone. Their late-night adventures, pillow conversations, study sessions, movie marathons, inside jokes, cooking lessons, plan making, shoulder touches, bed-sharing, lingering stares, belly laughs, gone. All of it was packing up and moving away.

Tears stained his t-shirt, but Dean couldn’t care less. Dean squeezed a little tighter when he felt Cas’ sniffles turn into soft sobs. Tears of his own threatened to escape.

“Hey, hey now it’s going to be—it’s going to be okay,” Dean spoke, softly choking on the words as he pushed them out. Dean trailed his fingers up and down Cas’ back not sure if he was trying to the other boy or himself more. “We’re going to keep in touch, I promise. You can call me every day and tell me all about your new house.” Feeling Cas nod into his shoulder, Dean continued trying to pour comfort into his touches and words for both their sakes, “You can’t get rid me that easily, Cas,” Dean tried for teasing, but the words caught in this throat filled with sentiment, “You’re my best friend. A couple of hundred miles between us isn’t going to change that,”

“Yeah?” Cas pulled back to look at Dean before using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe at his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled, still sniffling a bit himself. “This move changes nothing, I’ll be so annoying it will be like I’m there.”

“When are you not annoying?” Cas retorted, finally letting a soft smile grace his face.

Faking offense, Dean jolted out his bottom lip in an over-obvious pout. Cas burst into chuckles at the sight and when he snorted Dean followed suit. They could do this. The bond they shared was stronger than any number of miles put between them. Moving wasn’t going to their end, Dean determined as he drove Cas home from their last late-night cruise.

Laying his head down that night Dean finally understood Cas’ wish—to have the same four walls and windows—because this feeling of loss and change sucked donkey balls. A sneaky thought tiptoed into the forefront of his mind. _I could give him that_ , Dean thought, _I could give him the same four walls and windows._

Hell, they spent every waking hour together during the summer living together in the future would be no different he reasoned. Dean snatched his other pillow Cas had slept on the previous weekend and curled himself around it. The thought of making Cas' wish a dream come true gave Dean enough sanity to fall into a deep sleep.

Saturday Dean helped Cas pack boxes into the Cas’ family car. Mr. Shurley had to be in Colorado Monday morning for some immediate debriefing so the family was stuck packing what they could. The rest of the movers were going to pick up their remaining belongings and furniture later in the week. Dean lingered long after all the car was packed full, lingering until Naomi shooed him out of the house with a “Dean, sweetie. We have to be up early to make the drive. I’m sure Castiel will call you as soon as we get settled.”

Way before the sunlight would breach the horizon on Sunday, Dean pulled Baby a couple of blocks from the soon-to-be-vacant Shurley home. Call him coward, he wouldn’t deny it; fuck his picture was probably posted next to the word in the dictionary. Dean Winchester: coward. Why? Because here he was sitting in his car watching the Shurley’s loading into their car instead of getting out and hugging his best friend goodbye one last time. He was just watching instead of crushing Cas against his chest again, soothing the obvious rigid tension in his best friend’s shoulders that even he can see from his creeper perch.

Dean stayed. Stayed seated in Baby long past the Shurley’s station wagon tail lights had pulled away from the curb. He stayed until his bodily functions demanded attention. The entirety of Sunday passed in a blur. Dean couldn’t tell you if he ate, talked, or even blinked until reality assaulted him as he face-planted into his memory foam.

Castiel Shurley had come into his life, thrown everything he knew off a damn cliff with his stupid smitey rightenousness attitude and fucking rain-during-a-clear-sky colored eyes. He came in and taught Dean a deeper appreciation of literature, taught him what laughing until snot bubbles came out felt like, taught him he liked the warmth of sleeping next to another body even if said body snored and drooled.

Fuck Castiel Shurley for being the best thing that has ever happened to him. Dean punched his pillow, fuck the words ‘I’m moving’. _Punch_ —fuck this dull ache in his heart— _Punch_ —fuck having the most perfect summer— _Punch_ —fuck he never got to apologize— _Punch_ —fuck missing Cas even though he’s only been gone a couple of hours. Breathing heavily, Dean stared down at his dented pillow letting the hot tears steamrolling down his face drip on his destroyed bed sheets.  
Exhaustion flooded his system, shutting down his feelings and brainpower. With a heavy breath, Dean wiped at his eyes while once again curling around the pillow Cas’ used to sleep with. Inhaling his best friend’s clinging musky scent, Dean fell into a fitful sleep like a widow.

How was it possible for him to be more tired than when he went to sleep? Monday started the same way it had the week before minus one best friend. Gripping the strap on his backpack just a bit tighter, Dean zombied his way to first period. When did school become so dull? Nothing seemed to hold Dean’s interest as the day dragged on, his thoughts preoccupied with memories of fading taillights.

Disappointment tacked itself on to Dean’s growing fatigue. As soon as the bell would ring, he half-expected Cas to be striding up to him blabbering on about his latest novel conquest or wrinkling his nose in disgust at one of Dean’s many silly innuendos. And when there was no gravelly voice, no gummy smile, and no fond shake of fluffy raven hair filing his time in between classes, an ever-growing pit settled in his chest.

Ambling to his locker, Dean pressed his forehead to the cool metal, grounding himself for a moment. He zeroed on the dial allowing muscle memory to take over so he could get the damn thing open to retrieve his Calculus book. The sheer weight of the book demonstrated how math could kill. A bag of bricks weighed less.

As the locker door swung open a folded-up piece of notebook paper fluttered to the ground settling in between Dean’s feet.

Odd.

Dean picked up the note, looked side to side in case the sender was close by, then unfolded the note. He blinked twice to make sure his eyes were really seeing Cas’ neat scrawled handwriting. His breath hitched and it took all his willpower not to fold it back up and pretend he never received it; pretend whatever Cas had to say wasn’t going to feel like losing him all over again. Knowing Cas, it was probably a reading recommendation list or a reminder to drink plenty of water or to not hit on the away team cheerleaders during a game again, dude always, always had Dean’s best interest in mind. So, no reason to panic. The note no doubt just Cas making sure Dean was okay.

Or…

Or…not.

It started with a crossed-out Dear Dean before beginning with just Dean like Cas had not been sure where to begin the letter. The first couple of sentences caught his attention—

I was never going to say this. But I can’t leave bearing this weight. The only way I know how to put it in a way that I’m sure you won’t misunderstand is bluntly. I like you.

Dean rolled his eyes thinking no shit sherlock, they were best friends liking one another tended to be a requirement of that. He pushed on—

And before you start thinking NO SHIT SHERLOCK

—damn Cas knew him so well—

like I’m sure you’re doing what I mean is I _like like_ you, idiot.

—the bell rang in the background but Dean stood rooted in place—

In a romantic way

What?

His mind blanked, the need to finish the letter overrode his higher brain functions—'

If you’re wondering how long, I just figured it out myself. Mostly when we were stargazing last week, I didn’t even bother watching the stars for I was too caught up watching the stars in your eyes.

Blinking hard, Dean reread the last two sentences before continuing to make sure he wasn’t imaging the words in front of him.

Dean, you’ll always be my best friend but you’re also the first person I’ve ever liked, and I know it’s selfish of me to tell you this way. I promise to write to you after we get settled. I can only hope this knowledge hasn’t destroyed our friendship and you’ll write me back. I miss you already.—Cas—

The paper crinkled from Dean’s tight grip. Fuck.

A sliver of regret cut through the numbness that had ensnared him. He smoothed out the crinkles, running his fingers over the paper over and over again; his thoughts blank and a wicked mess all at the same time.

He reread the letter, twice, three, too many times to count; the words burning into his memory.

Dean closed his eyes bracing himself against the locker. He needed to think. He needed some air. Taking a deep breath in, Dean pulled himself together the best he could and walked straight towards the office.

The school secretary raised an eyebrow at him. How could she not given Dean should be in class and he hadn’t exactly been called to the office for any reason.

Missouri was the kind of school secretary every kid wanted to have—kind, somehow all-knowing, and always told it exactly the way it is, no sugar-coating. Her eyebrow turned into pursed lips and a _**hell of the world better be on fire and that’s why you're standing here**_ stare.

On a typical day, Dean would give Missouri his infamous Winchester smile and a hug before she shooed him off to class on the mornings she greeted students. Today, he couldn’t even meet her eyes or get his tongue to function properly. So, he stood in the office white-knuckling the straps of his backpack in complete silence, just silent and fucking frustrated.

“Boy, whatever you got swimming up in your head is gonna pull you under if you don’t come up for air,” Missouri said. Dean peeked up at her and he didn’t know how she knew but he knew that she knew. Dean swore she was a psychic in another life, hell probably was in this life too.

“Missouri, I—I,” shit, he didn’t know what he needed but he knew he needed to be anywhere except here to think, “I need to come up for air,” Dean finished.

“Yeah you do, I’m going to call your mom and tell her I sent you homesick,” She gave him a motherly smile, “And sweetie take it from an old woman, sometimes the best way to learn to swim is to just to jump in. A leap of faith if you will. Trust me you never regret. Now get out of my office with your moping self.” Missouri waved her hand at him like she was shooing a bug at a family barbeque.

Dean didn’t need to be told twice.

He turned to leave but stopped as he pulled the office door open, “Thank you,” he threw over his shoulder and walked out of the building letting the last bit of his mental power carry him to his Baby.

The familiar rumble of the big block soothed Dean’s fraying nerves. Rolling down the window to take in the crisp August air, Dean let Robert Plant fill the silence as he drove. And he drove--cruising the curves, pounding the pavement, and crunching gravel. Lost in the rhythm of driving, Dean hadn’t realized he pulled Baby into the same spot where they spent the other night stargazing until put Baby in park.

He cut the engine and slid out of the car just like he had done the other night; like he had done a hundred times over the summer. The warmth radiating off the grill felt nice as he leaned against it. Tilting his head back, his eyes fluttered closed letting the sun’s rays kiss his face; his mind peacefully blank as he just breathed in the nature around him.

His upbringing dictated that a boy liking another boy was wrong. The preacher spoke on the matter a few times over the course of Dean’s life, the subject a matter most people would rather ignore or sweep under the rug in their small Kansas town. Dean had never known anyone like that but didn’t mean they didn’t exist, didn’t mean his teachings on the matter were right either. He quit going to church a long time ago because of a difference of opinions.

The adults in his life were the same ones who swore the world would end at the turn of the century. If they were wrong about the fucking apocalypse happening than they were surely wrong with their ideals on love. What did someone’s genitals have to do with love anyway, Dean surmised.

He kicked at the grass beneath his feet. He wouldn’t be Dean _fucking_ Winchester if he let anyone tell him how to feel let alone what was right or wrong. No, he was one who got to decide that for himself.

He crawled up onto Baby’s hood after letting it cool to continue his thinking letting the blue-sky help shed light on his inner turmoil.

Dean knew Castiel. Knew him like he knew the back of his hand. Cas was his best friend, and Dean was his. Did Cas liking him in that way really change how he felt about him? He searched deep within himself for the answer. The knowledge didn’t change Cas, didn’t make him a monster. No, Cas was still that nose always in a book nerd with finger-fucked hair and an unmatchable dry snark. The same one who apparently liked him.

A laugh bubbled from his chest. Honestly, Dean didn’t feel disgusted or anything of the type. He felt more a mild curiosity. And if he was being even more honest with himself, he actually felt a swell of pride, anyone lucky enough for Cas to like them must be pretty special. Dean leaned all the way back letting himself splay out on Baby’s hood.

His mind wandered back to the night of Lisa’s end of summer bash. The way Cas looked when he was Lisa kissing him, the way he disappeared it all made sense now and felt like a swift kick in the gut. Dragging a hand down his face, Dean wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. He had wasted so much time planning an apology for Lisa when Cas didn’t even like her.

Cas liked _him_. And probably had longer than he stated in his letter. Dean recounted the whole summer trying to pinpoint more clues he had written off—the closing gap on the bed, the fond smiles he’d give Dean as he cave-manned his way through a cheeseburger, the lingering staring contests. Piecing together the clues though, Dean realized he was a willing participant if not sometimes the instigator, always pushing for more under the disguise of friendly best friend play. He chewed his bottom lip as he chewed over his actions during the summer. What the hell was wrong with him?

Oh.

_OH!_ Holy shit, Dean wanted to smack himself…again. Seriously, was he always this blind and oblivious? The plain as day, obvious truth railroaded him—he liked Cas. Like liked Cas. _Maybe more_ , a tiny voice whispered from the back of his mind.

While his brain was stuck on earth-shattering revelations, the low simmering building in his gut all summer also had a name—desire. Images of tan skin dripping with lake water flashed in his mind’s eye. The familiar simmering boiled as more images teased him—Cas’ rare nose-scrunching gummy smile, Cas’ sharp hip bones, his thick thighs, his stellar ass Dean secretly stared at right before Cas would climb into Dean’s bed.

Yes, Dean definitely was attracted to his best friend although his rocking body wasn’t the main reason Dean liked him (though having a model as a best friend didn’t hurt).

Somewhere between their soft hushed whispers and obnoxious banter, Dean fell for him. Somewhere among the all-knowing smirks, confused head-tilts, annoying during the movie questions, and ridiculous bee facts their relationship shifted. In between their late-night drives and school day shenanigans, Dean handed over his heart to the boy with a weird-ass name.

Needing to feel a piece of him, Dean fished Cas’ letter out of his back pocket and reread the words he knew by heart now. Stars in his eyes. Cas’ blue eyes were the one that really sparkled, glittered even under the darkness of night, or shimmered like clear ocean water on a perfect day when the sunlight struck them just right.

Cas’s words seeped in deeper like wine in a white t-shirt. Had Dean let the one person who made his heart skip a beat slip through his fingers? Had he been a complete idiot shoving all this into the deepest corners of his mind rather than manning up? God, he hurt all over.

Wet splotches blurred the printed lines on the notebook paper. A deep ache rattled his chest as hot wet tracks raced down his cheeks. Colorado didn’t just steal his best friend; it stole his everything—his sunshine, his cruising his buddy, his personal cheerleader, his Cas.

_‘I miss you already,’_

Dean thumbed over the line unbothered by the still falling tears. I Miss You, didn’t begin to cover how he felt. Longing? Maybe. The saying distance makes the heart grow fonder was a crock of bullshit. Distance makes the heart ache, makes the heart break, makes the heart shatter and the only glue is hundreds of miles away.

Did Cas even make it to Colorado yet? Was the drive boring and awful? Was Cas feeling this way too? Questions swirled around his head with no answers. Wait. What time was it? Maybe Cas had already called, and Dean had missed it. Panic obliterated any other feeling. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, Dean climbed off Baby’s hood shoving Cas’ letter back into its safe spot before climbing in and driving home.

With the car barely shut off, Dean ran inside the house. The phone resided on the kitchen wall. Dean searched its call log hoping, praying to see a number he didn’t recognize.

Nothing.

He glared at it wishing it to ring at any moment. When it didn’t ring he set to pacing the kitchen tiles. He could wait.

A week passed.

And nothing—no phone calls, no letters.

Routine became his sanity. Wake up, go to school, sit through his classes, go to practice, work at the garage every other night, stare at his homework until eyes watered, crawl into bed, dream of Cas, start all over again.

His parents eyed his dark circles with concern. Sam entered his room several times a night now with some excuse trying to hide the fact he was checking up on him. While he appreciated their love, he couldn’t tell them how torn up he truly was.

So, he played his part, smiling during family dinners, laughing with his friends at school, joking with cheer teammates, roughhousing with his little brother. The world didn’t need to see how broken he was, the world wouldn’t understand. His heart belonged to another boy and while he could accept that, he knew most wouldn’t. The deep aching chiasm Cas left faded into a dull numbness.

Three more sloth-like days went by when the letter came. Dean had resigned himself to the fact Cas confessed and ran, technically not by his own doing. The love letter stuffed in his locker with each growing day solidified his notion that the neatly scribbled words might be the last correspondence he ever receives from his best friend. And maybe that had his hope well-drained dry, the fact he not only missed his chance at having Cas as his boyfriend? Yeah, boyfriend would be the correct term, but he lost the one friend who knew him inside and out, knew his soul laid completely bare, and still chose to be his friend.

Yet, when his mom holds up the letter as he walks into the kitchen water trickles into his hope well. The sight of the letter feels like a long-awaited rainstorm during a drought. Reaching for it tentatively, he plucks it from his mother’s hands ignoring her knowing smile. The debate to pinch himself to make sure the letter with Cas’ neatly scribbled handwriting occupying his hands is real and not a very well-constructed dream battles on in head as he walks to his bedroom.

Dean turns the letter over in his hands a few times feeling the material of the paper in his hands. The mattress dips with Dean’s weight. He runs his pointer finger underneath the lip of the letter opening it with care. The letter itself is a thicker material this time instead of notebook paper. Nerd really went out and bought stationary. Dean wants to laugh but he’s afraid once he lets one emotion go, all the others he’s kept at arm’s length will surface.

He unfolds it like he’s handling a rare book—gingerly and with awe; like if he unfolds it slowly enough it will whisper all the world’s secrets in his ears.

Hello Dean,

I hope this letter finds you well. Colorado is beautiful. I haven’t done much sightseeing, but the mountains can be seen everywhere here and are breathtaking. School is school. It’s hard to walk the halls and not think you’ll be right there throwing your arm around my shoulders while laughing at the day’s events. I swear I can hear your crude comments in my head, every time a pretty girl walks by I get phantom pains in my ribs from where you’d be elbowing me or I can hear you yelling at the jocks telling them if they scored as big as their ego they’d be a better team. People probably think I’m crazy muttering and giggling to myself. I miss you, Dean. I’m sorry it took me so long to write this. Truthfully, I was afraid with my last letter if you found it, you’d never want to hear from me again and that I ruined our friendship yet the longer I waited the more I wanted, no needed to talk to you. Needed to hear your stupid voice argue with me over who was better Batman or Superman (Superman by a long-shot Dean). Call me a coward for writing rather than calling, but I don’t think my heart could handle the rejection. I’m not sure when I’ll write again, maybe after I get over this stupid crush although you are pretty unforgettable. I hope you don’t hate me more for this.

Cas

P.s. Kansas stars shine brighter than any Colorado star.

Damn him. Damn Cas and his romantic words. Damn him for making Dean’s heart flutter then shattering it into a million pieces. Damn that self-deprecating moron. He’s not even giving Dean a chance. Tugging at the strands on the back of his neck, he felt his blood beginning to boil. This is not how their story was going to end. Dean was not about to be some crush Cas wrote off for not feeling the same way. Not only because he did but he wanted to smack his best friend upside his stupid head and then kiss his stupid chapped lips to show him exactly how Dean felt.

Once the idea appeared in Dean’s mind, it paraded around center stage—alluring and ever-so tempting. Bolting upright, he picked up the envelope he had set down after he pulled out the stationary. Scrawled in the top right corner, Cas’s address. His well of hope overflowed as the ingredients of the plan cooking up his mind started coming together.

If Cas was brave enough to spill his feelings, Dean could be brave enough to return them— _in person._

Moving around his room like a crazed man, Dean pulled out his duffle bag from under his bed and started stuffing clothes into it. Six-shirts and four pairs of jeans weren’t too much, right? He tossed in a couple of pairs of socks and boxers before zipping up. He could miss a couple of days of school and the drive wouldn’t be bad, Dean looked over his shoulder at his bedroom door. The hard part waited on the side of that door.

Slinging the duffle over his shoulder, he rolled his shoulders mustering up all the courage he could. Once he stepped out that door everything would change. Who was he kidding? Everything changed the moment he saw that John Wayne's collection on Cas’ bookshelves and those blue eyes sparkled with mischievousness.

Come hell or high water, Dean was going to stare into those pools of liquid summer sky again.

Gripping his duffle strap, he opened the door knowing Bobby would be easier to deal with than his parents. He tossed the bag in the backseat of Baby and drove over to the salvage shop. Maybe one hard conversation would ease the other one.

“Bobby?” Dean called out, pushing open the office door.

“Boy, it’s not your day to work,” Bobby answered, rounding the corner from the garage entrance. He arched an eyebrow at Dean’s debauched face, “Everything okay son?”

“Bobby, I’d never ask if it was really important. Do you think I could get an advance on my paycheck?” Dean asked, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

“You in some kind of trouble?”

“What?” Dean shook his head, “No. No nothing like that.”

“This have something to do with that Shurley boy?”

“How did you…” Dean trailed, mouth-gaping at how dead-on Bobby had been.

“I have eyes, boy; you’ve been moping around here for the better part of almost two weeks. Ever since your sandwich lunch buddy left.” Dean flinched, had he really been that obvious? “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

“No,” Dean shook his head. Bobby eyed him up and down before he smiled.

“You’re planning on doing something stupid aren’t you?”

Dean shrugged; Bobby saw straight through him, “Probably, I’m—I’m going to drive to Colorado to see him.”

“Uh-huh, and I take it you're leaving right this second by the way you're chomping at the bit.” Dean nodded, “Why?” Bobby asked and wasn’t that the million-dollar question.

“Because…” Like a band-aid, he reminded himself. Rip it off like a band-aid let the judgment sting and move on, “Because I like him and the idiot moved away before I could I tell him and I only figured out my feelings because he wrote me a letter saying he like me first and then he wrote me a second letter saying he was going to quit writing because he thought he ruined our friendship and I’m going to drive there and tell him exactly how I feel,” Taking a deep breath after his rushed ramble, Dean met Bobby’s eyes searching for disgust or hate or anything besides the knowing glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” Bobby smiled.

“Okay? That’s it? You’re going to help me?” Dean asked each question with a little less breath than the last.

“I’ve watched you two idjits dance around each other all summer,” Bobby stepped closer, pulling Dean into a hug, “I know love when I see it. My late wife used to look at me the same way that Shurley boy looks at you,”

“Yeah and how’s that?”

“Like you damn well hung the moon and all the stars in the sky just for him.”

“Bobby, you old sap.” Dean sniffled, hugging back the gruff older man. He felt lighter than he had in weeks. He mumbled a soft thanks into his uncle’s shoulder.

Bobby stepped back and walked back into the manager’s office returning with a small envelope, “Here. You got his address? I’ll make a few calls and make sure he’s not on base.” Dean blinked; he hadn’t even thought of that problem. Reaching into his back pocket, Dean handed over the envelope with Cas’s address while taking the small one with a couple of hundred bucks in twenties in it.

Thumbing the bills, “Bobby this is too much,” Dean balked.

Bobby waved him off, “I know how much gas your car burns, you deserved a raised for all your hard work this summer anyway so don’t worry about trying to pay this back you hear me,”

A few phone calls later, Bobby came back with good news. Cas didn’t live on base but in a suburb a couple of miles away nestled right outside Colorado Springs in a town called Falcon. Pulling out a huge road atlas, Bobby laid it on the desk helping Dean plan his best route there. It was a rather straight shot, but Bobby was adamant about Dean taking a filled gas can with him because _there’s hardly a gas station between the middle of nowhere and the middle of nowhere Dean._

The conversation with his family went smoother than Dean had anticipated. It seemed everyone saw they felt about each other besides them. Mary convinced him to leave in the morning after a good night’s sleep instead of talking him out of it knowing there was no chance in hell of changing her bullheaded son’s mind. John just grunted and asked Dean to call when he got there so they knew he made it okay. Maybe the world didn’t need to understand, those around him did and that’s all that mattered. His fears were unfounded, and Dean felt a bit silly worrying all that time as he walked to his bedroom. Tomorrow he’d be on his way to Colorado to snag himself hopefully a boyfriend.

Sam snuck into his room late in the evening. “Dean, hey Dean,” he whispered, shaking at Dean’s shoulders.

“Wha—Sammy?” Dean slurred, rolling over and half-opening his eyes to see his little brother’s shaggy hair. Dean scouted over on instinct letting Sam crawl into his bed. “What’s up buddy?”

His little brother stared at his ceiling seemingly contemplating the universe problems, “You’re really driving to Colorado tomorrow?”

“Yep, that’s the plan,”

“Are you scared?”

Dean hummed, mulling over the question in his mind, “I was,” he tapped his fingers along his sternum, “I did the hard part, telling Bobby, you, Mom and Dad. That was scary. Telling Cas will be a walk in the park compared to that.” Dean let that information sink in trying to figure out what prompted his baby brother to crawl into his bed, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks if that’s what you're worried about.”

“I—just—” Sam propped himself up on his elbows, “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you liked Cas? How did you know it was more than friendship I guess?”

Dean huffed, man what a loaded question. He roamed his eyes over Sam’s face, the quiet anticipation clear as day. “Well, there’s physical attraction. Cas is, I don’t know, you’ve seen him. Dude is literally a model.” Sam nodded a _yeah, you’re not wrong_ nod, “But there’s so much more to Cas than his pretty face. It’s the way he snores and drools on my pillow, it’s his grumpy attitude when he solves a math problem or the characters in his books are being stupid by his standards, it’s his ridiculous smug smile when he wins at Mario-kart with toad of all things even though I’m pretty sure he cheats,” Dean takes a breath, releasing he could ramble on about his best friend for hours, days even, “I like the person I am with him. Cas makes me feel like I can be anything, do anything Sammy. I like him because he saw through all posturing cool-kid bullshit and wanted to be my friend anyway.”

Sam hummed thinking over Dean’s words, “It doesn’t bother you Cas is a he?”

“Nah, the heart wants what the heart wants,” Dean shrugged.

“And what would you say if I liked a boy?” Sam asked, slightly hesitant in his voice.

“I’d say he better treat you right or I’d break his legs, it’s my job as a big brother to protect you,” he waited only a beat, “Do you like a boy?”

“No, maybe, I like Jess, but I thought Gabriel who just moved into town was cute,” Sam admitted, “I thought I was weird for thinking it but—”

“You’re not weird Sammy, you like what you like nothing wrong with that, and if anyone tells you differently you tell me, and I’ll handle it okay?’

Sam nodded, “I think Cas is really good for you,” Sam’s entire face lit up like the 4th of July, “If he becomes your boyfriend does that mean I’m automatically his new best friend?”

“Get out of here you brat!” Dean laughed, shoving at his little brother.

“Cas is my best friend now!” Sam giggled, wiggling his way off the bed, “Too bad, so sad!”

“Go to sleep!” Dean said, picking up a pillow and launching it at his brother’s face.

Catching the pillow, and grinning a Cheshire cat smile Sam started singing, “Cas and Dean sitting in a tree K-I-S-S—”

“What are you three!” Dean laughed even harder, half-wanting to strangle his little brother while simultaneously hugging the little shit, “Get out of here Bitch!”

“Jerk!” Sam said back, throwing the pillow back and walking towards the bedroom door before stopping and throwing over his shoulder, “And Dean, drive safe okay?”

“I will,” Dean smiled watching his brother leave his room. Snuggling back into his bed, his thoughts circled around his day. Everything changed and nothing changed—his family still loved him, he still liked his best friend, and the world didn’t end. He’d have to give his brother a hard time about his crushes when he got back; with that singular thought on his mind sleep swooped in and knocked him out.

Boring, flat, endless—words someone traveling across the upper part of Kansas might use to describe the drive.

Not Dean.

Nah, the great plains and rolling hills were gorgeous; peaceful. The expansive sunflower and corn fields are a reminder of the hard work and love farmers tilled into the land.

Plus, every wheat-field-as-far-as-the-eye-can-see-mile was one more mile closer to Cas.

Tapping his fingers in beat to Out on the Tiles, Dean poured his soul into singing the words; bopping his head and not fighting the growing smile on his face as more and more asphalt disappeared underneath Baby’s tires.

7 hours according to the route Bobby helped him plan out, well more like 3 since Dean hopped on the road the moment he woke up—barely remembering to brush his damn teeth before he was all packed up and waving goodbye to his family—stood between Dean and destiny.

Okay, that was cheesy and a tad dramatic—sue him. But it's not every day you drive hundreds of miles to pour your heart out on your best friend’s doorstep. Fuck, just the thought of seeing his best friend again had his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

Was he crazy? Dean pulled on the collar of his t-shirt feeling suddenly warm before reaching over to crank the A/C knob a bit higher. He didn’t have any doubts when he left this morning, actually, he felt like some medieval knight riding his trusty steed across the land to win the heart of the beautiful princess or in his case the handsome prince. But approaching the Colorado/Kansas line and the home stretch of the trip, what-if scenarios started throwing a party in his head.

What if Cas had changed his mind? What if Cas thought Dean was nuts driving all the way to Colorado?

_P.s. Kansas stars shine brighter than any Colorado star—_

_I like like you, in a romantic way—_

_I was too busy watching the stars in your eyes—_

Lock Dean up in an insane asylum and throw away the key, if he was the craziest person in the world for doing what he was doing he didn’t care. Especially not when the snarkiest, dry-humored, downright drool-worthy human was waiting for him at the end of this little yellow brick road adventure.

_I miss you, Dean—_

With Cas words bouncing around his head effectively shutting down the what-ifs, his conviction in his mission was renewed and if he stepped on the gas pedal a little more, well that was between him and Baby.

Cas wasn’t kidding; Colorado was stunning. Flat plains gave away to hills and slightly beyond the horizon stood the Rocky Mountains in all their glory. And Christ on a cracker, the sight of them left Dean breathless; he really needed to get out of Kansas more.

Pulling into the neighborhood which held Cas’s new home, Dean realized he was having one of those dad moments—wanting to pat himself on the back for making good time on the trip. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, 18 going on 40.

But the laughter dissolved on his tongue as he pulled Baby up to the curb, stopping a hair shy of the green mailbox with 314 E on the side. Taking in the house, it wasn’t much unlike the one Cas had lived in—two-story, white, nice yard.

Okay, he could do this. He didn’t just drive almost 8 hours straight to turn around and go home with his tail between his legs. Taking a deep breath in and out, deep down Dean knew he’d never forgive himself if he simply left. With one more deep breath, he swung the door open. _Now or never Winchester._

His boots creaked the wooden front porch steps. Raising a sweaty palm, Dean knocked on the front door; standing there with a handful of hope in one hand and his heart in the other.

Silence.

_Fuck._

Bouncing on heels, he knocked one more time; not really wanting to seem overeager or creepy. Still silence. Maybe the Novaks went out for dinner, or maybe Cas had made some friends and was hanging out with them. Maybe he didn’t think this whole surprise plan all the way through. He could camp out on the front porch steps, but then again someone might get suspicious. Sighing while giving the door the death glare, Dean decided on grabbing a bite to eat and coming back to try again.

Resigning himself to keep his decision, he shoved his hands and his pockets and turned to walk back to the Impala.

“Dean?”

Dean’s world narrowed down to the very sweaty, panting probably from a run given the shorts and soaked AC/DC shirt which looked suspiciously like the one that had gone missing from Dean’s closet, best friend. Even drenched, Cas looked like he walked off the set of a modeling shoot.

Cas tilted his head before blinking hard and looking over his shoulder at Baby then back at Dean. When did words become so damn hard to speak? Opening and closing his mouth, Dean couldn’t get even syllables to come out. Luckily, Dean didn’t need words; within a blink of an eye he had an armful of wet best friend.

“Dean!” Cas said, squeezing Dean within an inch of his life. He couldn’t help it, Dean dissolved into happy giggles at Cas’s reaction. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“What are you doing here?” Cas stepped back, his smile a mile wide. Slowly though, the smile began to fade from Cas’s face as the moment started to settle in, “Dean, what are you doing here?”

“I...I...well you see--” Dean stumbled, “I got your letters.”

“Oh,” Cas said directly to his tennis shoes, “I see...Dean, I’m sorry, I--”

Dean cut Cas’ words off by putting a single finger to the other boy’s lips, “Cas, I really hope you weren’t about to apologize for what you wrote because I’d feel pretty silly driving all the way out here to tell you I like like you too.”

Cas’s eyes went comically wide before crinkling at the corners before the little shit darted his tongue out licking the finger attached to his lips.

“Ew,” Dean grimaced, wiping his finger on his jeans, “dude.”

Cas' wide, gummy smile had Dean's heart doing somersaults, "So," Cas started, a hint of teasing already bleeding into his voice, "You like me?"

"I don't know," Dean couldn't fight the smile tugging on his lips, "I mean I did, then my poor finger was tongue assaulted."

Despite giving Dean one of his infamous eye-rolls, Cas chuckled.

"Come on," Cas said, reaching down and grasping Dean's hand at the same time he stepped around Dean, "Let's go inside, I think we both could use a shower."

"Yeah," Dean said, slightly memorized the warm feeling of Cas' hand in his. Only halfway up the porch steps did his brain start to function again, "Wait--" Dean pulled on Cas' hand to get the other boy to stop and look at him. Swallowing his tongue, and summoning every ounce of his courage, Dean stepped forward into Cas' space; reaching his free hand up to cradle Cas' cheek, "I came all the way to Colorado for this." And with those words, Dean leaned in slowly giving his best friend every opportunity to run or to stop Dean if he was uncomfortable. Instead, though, Cas' eyes slipped shut while he leaned forward to meet Dean's lips.

Like jumping off a swing at its highest point, the mechanics felt familiar and the Dean lost himself in the flying feeling as the warmth of Cas' soft lips against his own soared through his veins; the kiss a high Dean knew he could never live without now that he had a taste.

And like any jump off a swing set, the flying always ended too quickly. The kiss was over but both boys were smiling, sucking in air like they had forgotten how important oxygen was.

Cas stepped back first, face flushed, "You came all the Colorado for that?"

"Nah, that was a bonus," Dean smiled, "I came all the way here for you. Hoping you'd give us a chance."

"All the cheesy romance novels I read and turns out you're the romantic sap."

Dean felt his heart nearly explode as he tilted his head back to laugh. Jesus, this kid's humor would be the death of him someday.

Cas pulled on his hand, "Come on, I need a shower bad, and after I'd love to catch up."

"Yeah," Dean said, finally following Cas into the house. No matter where or how far, with the feeling of Cas' hand in his and the lingering taste of Cas on his lips, Dean knew he'd follow the other boy to the ends of the Earth, to hell and back to be with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. Your comments give me life and feed my muses. And in case you haven't heard it today, you are amazing and I love you.
> 
> Also, if you are interested here is the link to Cas's POV, it's much shorter and not as detailed because it was a smaller challenge: [Not In Kansas Anymore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414738)


End file.
